Momentary
by Lialle
Summary: A group of University students visit a historical Mansion in their town for an assignment. Not everything is as seems, and soon they discover that death isn't necessarily as permanent as they once believed. Or perhaps just not as separate from life. DM/HP
1. Chapter One: Photograph

**Chapter One:**

_**Photograph**_

'Is this the place?'

'... Yes, I do believe it is.'

''Elddir Manor', ey? It don't look so bad.'

'It's said to be haunted, you know.'

'That's bullocks. Ghosts? What a load of crock.'

'I, for once, and only this once, agree with Weasel. Have you ever seen ghosts Granger?'

'... No...'

'Then it's unanimous. Ghost's are folly. Now are we going to go in or not?'

―∞―

Elddir Manor was an old building, near 150 years old, and had been abandoned for the last century. The newspapers around that time did not document much of the disturbances that had occurred around the house, but the death of one family member was mentioned on occasion.

The grounds are now overgrown; the gravel road leading to the entrance of the Manor dark and gloomy, trees overhanging with underbrush and dead leaves decorating their roots; the once grassy, perfectly manicured garden beyond the road was a mess. The Manor itself was in relatively good condition. The stone walls were covered in vines in parts, or even moss, and a few of the windows were cracking or gone. Some of the roof shingles were falling in, decaying, but the vast majority were in decent order; enough to protect the inside from the weather to a degree.

Six young adults, four men and two women, walked down the driveway, staring in awe up at the large building standing before them.

―∞―

'In late 1914, during the first world war, this house was abandoned by all occupants. The Potter family and their three employees left after Harry Potter passed away, who was their youngest son.' The six University students stood at the foot of a large staircase that broke off in two directions when it reached the wall, curving back up to create a balcony above the entrance hall. The wall before them, at the first landing of the stairs, was a large window. The dirty, scratched glass was barely covered by moth-eaten crimson blinds, and what was exposed of the window let in the only source of light for the room. The group stared around and took in the large entrance room.

'Hermione, seriously, shut it. I mean, we like totally know already.' The bushy haired brunette narrowed her eyes at Pansy before muttering under her breathe and turning her gaze away from the other girl. She looked up at the giant and partially broken chandelier.

'That looks like it could fall, doesn't it Herm?' A tall red head asked his girlfriend, putting a calming hand on her shoulder.

'Yes, it does, but if we have any luck it won't fall while where here. But perhaps we should move from under it just in case.' The group silently agreed, moving up the stairs. Creaks and groans emitted from the old floorboards under the molding faded red trail carpet that lead up to the second floor. The group ascended in silence, hands trailing the railing, eyes towards their feet as if their eyes could judge if the wood would collapse under them.

'It's strange how much this house hasn't decayed; it's been almost a hundred years since it was empty. You'd think things would be falling apart all over the place, instead it's just a little moldy and dusty.' Draco spoke as they reached the second floor. A long hallway stretched off in either direction with doors leading off it, while the balcony continued around the room with two large windows looking out onto the driveway. Light trickled in through dark curtains, mostly intact, barely lighting the hallway enough to see much after a couple of doors. 'Did any of us bring torches?'

Rustling was heard as Neville carded through his bulging messenger bag, pulling out a small plastic torch – one you would take away if you were not expecting much trouble. The shy man handed it over to the tall blond, meekly looking at his feet after it was taken off him with a grunt. Hermione scoffed at Draco's lack of manners, and Blaise laughed in amusement.

'So, we're all here for pretty much the same reason, right?' The dark skinned man asked, grinning as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. Silence met his question for a moment, Ron preferring not to reply, Hermione distracted while looking at what looked like an old family portrait.

'Yeh, I'd say so. We're all researching about the family and their history, right?' Neville supplied after a moment, managing to sound somewhat confident. Hermione looked over at the group before picking up the framed photo from a corner table between two hard wooden doors. She walked back to the other five, shoving the photograph toward them.

The group looked down, taking in the five people within the frame. It was sepia, slightly red, high exposure, grainy, but you could see the faces clearly. Stoic, calm, no smiles. Took too long to capture the image to smile. There was one daughter, dark hair, pretty, like her fairer haired mother. The sons looked like their father, one with similar glasses – the youngest of the three siblings – the other as tall as the father. It was the family, presumably two or so years before the house was abandoned.

'They look nice enough.' Eyes turned to Draco, and everyone shrugged in agreement. Hermione kept the photograph, depositing it in her bag.

―∞―

How many rooms had they searched, looking for information? Books crumbled in their hands, cool air curled around their ankles. Yet they found nothing. Eventually, after a couple of hours, the group decided to split up, going in pairs off to different sections of the Manor.

'You take the east wing, we'll take west.'

'And we'll take the first floor.'

―∞―

'Drake, why does the second floor look so, like, well, less 'worn down' then the rest of the house?' Pansy asked after twenty minutes of silence, walking between rooms on the first floor. Draco shrugged, eyes skimming over an old peeling painting or what could have been a Potter ancestor. He was dark haired, green eyed with a strong facial structure; a strong jaw and sharp cheek bones. He was handsome. Pansy bumped her shoulder into Draco's, trying to get some contact. He stopped walking and stared at the painting.

'Draco… I'm cold.' Pansy shivered as if to emphasize her point, wrapping her arms around her torso. She hunched her shoulders up, wishing she wore something other than her thin purple graphic t-shirt and jeans. She glanced behind her, as if sensing something watching, eyeing her every movement. Shrugging it off she turned back to Draco for a moment, before looking at what he was absorbed in. 'He's cute, isn't he Drake?'

'Yeh.' The blond answered absently, tearing his gaze away from the portrait. 'This is a sitting room, I think. There's the fire place, and those would be the chairs and couches, I suppose.' He pointed towards caved in furniture that looked as if it was taken to with an axe. He raised an eyebrow before shoving his hands into his jumper pockets. 'You're right Pans, it is cold in here.' Draco glanced over to the single window in the room; it wasn't open. He frowned, 'wasn't there just a gust of wind?'

―∞―

Ron and Hermione, meanwhile, weren't doing much searching of their allocated Manor space, but instead of each other's mouths.

'Ron… Ron… Ron! We should… be searching… the rooms!' The brunette attempted to say between kisses before giving up and shoving her boyfriend off. 'Do you want to fail this assignment?' She tapped her foot on the hardwood floors, all of which appeared to be in immaculate condition as if time had stopped in this part of the house, freezing the decay of the wood. The room they were in was large, almost dust free. A mirror adorned the left wall when you walked into the room, a chest-of-drawers under it.

Paintings littered the walls haphazardly, all of which looked as if they were done by the inhabitant of this room, whoever that might have been. A large bed was under the window and the curtains were closed. On the bed was a dark red splatter that looked faded from the sun in some parts. The bed itself probably once had perfect white sheets, but at this day and age it was splattered with a dark brown… something that they could not place.

This room was cold and dim. Hermione noticed all of this, staring in shock.

'Ron, this room is almost in perfect condition…'

―∞―

'So, do you believe what Granger said before? That this place is haunted?' Blaise turned his head to glance at Neville, bright eyes watching his 'searching' partner. His hands were still in his pockets, in fact he had not removed them ye, and any doorknobs that need to be turned were done by Neville. He smirked a bit as he turned back away, listening intently to the house around him. It felt like it was talking.

'Leave… leave'

That's what it was probably saying, what it seems like it was saying. The boys shivered, a cold wind tickling the back of their necks, circling them. Neville's teeth chattered, his face paled. He shoved his hands in his armpits, hunching his shoulders.

'What the fuck?' Blaise swore, swirling around, staring down the hallway. It was so dark, they had Neville's torch but that barely made much difference, it just cast shadows, making them jump. The dark skinned man crossed to the covered window, pulling back the dark curtains. Nothing changed. It remained as dark as before. Blaise frowned, dropping his hands from the curtains, letting them rest limply at his sides.

The window was clear, closed and the sky was overcast but no light entered the hallway. Neville gapped, looking around him as another cold breeze blew past. Ghostly hands crept across his exposed skin, curling around the nape of his neck, carding their fingers through his hair. He trembled, turning slightly to see Blaise's shocked expression, watching as it changed to fear.

'W-what the actual f-fuck?!'

―∞―

Draco turned the doorknob, pushing open the door. He walked into the new room, glancing about as Pansy clung to his arm. It was a large kitchen; clean, untouched, mostly iron and wood. Draco paused, frowning deeply.

'It's... it isn't... destroyed like the rest of the house. Pansy... what the hell?' He looked down at his friend, shock evident on his face. Pansy was just as shocked, looking around the kitchen as if she'd just seen the unbelievable.

'I dunno Drake... doesn't it feel warmer in here too?' That was when Draco noticed it, the warmth. It was so unlike the rest of the house, so unlike the hallway just outside the room, which had felt like it was almost below zero. Draco detached himself from his friend, walking further into the room, looking around.

Everything appeared to be left as it was the day the Manor was abandoned. A cooking book lay open on the center table; a book that was probably owned by a member of the family. Annotations lined the margins, personal methods for making some of the baked foods; scones, pastries. It was in neat writing, clear and legible, as if it was written just yesterday. Next to it lay what appeared to be a journal, discarded for anyone to come upon and read. Draco flipped it open and was greeted with the same script as the annotated cook book.

The first few pages were poems, decorated with scribbles and annotations. As Draco turned the fresh white paper the contents changed, no longer were they poems, but instead journal entries, thoughts of a person who live in this time. Dates marked the pages; 19th of April, 1911. 3rd of August, 1912.

'Pans... check this out.'

―∞―

The bedspread, on closer inspection, did nt look like a brown splatter but in fact like dried blood with red blotches; still wet. Hermione gasped, stepping back from the bed, hand against her mouth. Ron gapped, staring wide-eyed at the bed before him.

'But... t-this house... it's been empty f-for so long... A-and this is partly fresh...' Hermione stuttered, eyes watering in apprehension. She looked away from the bed, nervous brown eyes taking in the clean, dust free room once more. As she walked over to the chest-of-drawers the floor creaked; a sound that was not as pronounced as it should have been, considering the age of the Manor. She placed her shaking hands on the hardwood surface that reached her breasts, dragging them over the smooth surface feeling for dust. Hermione frowned, her brow creasing in thought. She 'hmmed' as she opened the top draw. It scrapped; wood against wood, opening to reveal clothes which were still intact, no decay, no smell, no dust or spider webs. It was all clean.

Hermione ruffled through it carefully, seeing if anything was hidden. Her previous apprehension forgotten as a new curiosity came upon her. Nothing really interesting in the first draw, or the second or third except some hidden jewelry and crumpled up scribbles on paper that the owner saw fit to keep. The fourth and final draw did not seem to hold much promise, they were once again filled with clothes. Hermione stuck her hands into it, pulling out some odd bits and pieces to try and get a better look at what was within the draw. She sighed, obviously disappointed, until her hand came in contact with what felt like a book. She pulled it out, and looked at its thick spine.

'The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.'

Ron, who was standing behind his girlfriend, frowned at the book.

'How lame. The bloke who lived in this room must've been a bore.' Hermione looked up at the red head from her spot on her knees, glaring half-heartedly up at him. She clasped the old book lovingly in her hands, turning back to its cover. The book did not withstand time like the rest of the room; the cover was a faded green, the bind a lighter, more yellow green which was faded as well. The pages were browning and thin, the same paper used in an old BIble, and were easy to tear. She flicked through the first few pages.

'It was published in 1907.' She closed the book, pondering for a moment before depositing it in her bag, along with the photo of the family. 'Let's go back to the main foyer and wait for the rest of the guys."

―∞―

'How about we, well, you know... go back to the entrance to this place?' Blaise offered, not bothering to hide how spooked he was; he could see Neville was scared as well, if not more so. Neville nodded, his hand shaking around the torch, and began to walk back the way they came. The dark skinned man followed, his hands once again shoved into his jacket pockets, but this time it was done so to hide his shaking and sweating hands.

―∞―

Draco and Pansy sat in silence at the foot of the grand staircase, the journal held between them as they read. Footsteps echoed above them, Blaise's head popping out over the banister and looking down at them before walking around and down the stairs and to the entrance hall. Neville followed behind him, torch off. Both boys were pale faced and a little shaken. They sat down on the same stair as Pansy and Draco, Neville staring off into space, Blaise staring at his friends.

'What happened?' Pansy asked, looking up from the journal and staring at her friend, ignoring Neville completely. Draco glanced up at Blaise for a moment before turning back to the book in his hands, reading silently and listening to their conversation on the side. Blaise thought for a moment, looking down at the ground beside his foot before back to Pansy.

'We were looking through part of upstairs, it was dark. The windows didn't let any light in, even if the blinds were open. It was cold, a lot of wind but no open windows... It felt like fucking hands...' He trailed off, hands moving in their pockets a moment before one came out and brushed through his dark hair, brushing it out of his face as he looked around the large foyer. Pansy frowned, glancing down at the journal in Draco's hands.

'The rooms we visited were sometimes cold. They were all destroyed; like, except the kitchen. The kitchen was, like, in perfect condition... The cooking book on the bench was in perfect condition, the pages weren't even browning or molding or anything! We kept it, it's in my bag. But we also found this journal next to it, both books looked like they were owned, like, by the same person. It's really interesting, but the entries are infrequent. It has bits from as late back as 1909 until 1914... Poems as well. They aren't so good.' She shrugged, giggling a little. 'I suppose our time wasn't as freaky as yours.'

'Blay, we also saw a pretty old portraiture. It looked like it could have been of someone related to the family who use to live here. He was pretty hot for someone who was born probably two hundred years ago.' Draco added in, smirking as he closed the journal and put it away in his bag. He turned to his two friends as Ron and Hermione came down the stairs, both of whom were not talking to each other; Ron looking slightly bored and Hermione thinking deeply.

The couple sat down in front of the group on the stairs, sitting cross-legged or stretched out. Hermione looked at each person with a frown, as if contemplating something.

'One of the rooms upstairs was in perfect condition. Nothing damaged, no dust.' She paused for a moment, frowning again. 'The bed was different though. There was fresh and dried blood on it. Do you think someone was here just before we came?' Hermione thought for a moment. 'But it wouldn't be possible... Blood dries pretty quickly on fabric, and some of it was pretty wet...'

The group sat in silence for a moment, as if listening to the sounds of the house and not their own thoughts. Neville looked around, feeling a lot better now that he was with his friends again; not as scared. He did not think about what happened before with Blaise in the hallway, immediately categorizing that as part of that 'ghostly' stuff old houses like these were associated with a lot these days.

'Help... help... me...Help me... help...'

Neville jumped, looking around wildly.

'D-did you j-just here that?!' He asked in a squeaky voice, looking at the people around him with wide eyes. Blaise, Pansy, Draco and Ron looked at him weirdly, Hermione with curiosity. 'It was... like someone was asking for help... but... whispered, or muffled, like I was too far away to hear...'

Hermione listened for a moment before shaking her head, not hearing anything. Draco, Pansy and Ron continued to look at him like he was crazy while Blaise frowned.

'I heard something like that before in the hallway...' Blaise said as if surprised, his voice hushed, eyes slightly wider than normal. He shivered and looked at his two friends, imploring them to believe him. 'It was if the house was telling me to leave. At least... that's what it sounded like...' He sighed, hunching his shoulders slightly.

Silence encompassed down on the group for a moment, a breeze blowing past, the temperature dropping as if to match their moods.

'You know, I've got this feeling that something weird is going on here.'

―∞―

The group went separate ways, planning to meet there again that night, figuring that maybe more interesting things would happen; or more frightening. Blaise, Pansy and Draco went out to lunch in town, to a coffee shop they frequented.

After ordering their drinks and getting some cut sandwiches the group of three sat down at their usual table outside, watching passers-by for a moment and chewing absentmindedly on their lunch before turning to each other. A silent message seemed to be passed between them. Draco put his sandwich down, reaching into his bag and pulling out the journal.

'It's Harry Potter's. It ends a couple of days before it's said that he died. It's an interesting account of his daily life; how he wasn't allowed to leave the house, how he had to stay out of his father's way, how his mother was always sad, his siblings gentle with him. It also mentions this Tom Riddle fellow, who isn't mentioned in any of the records we've come by of people in employment within the Potter household.' Draco paused for a moment, thinking about what else was mentioned as the drinks arrived.

'He also seems to believe this Riddle bloke had a great dislike for him... but Potter also talks a lot about strange events that weren't recorded in newspapers or anything of the like; such as disappearances, deaths of horses, accidents around the house. He might have been a bit delirious from not being allowed to go outside, but he might have also been telling the truth. Some of it's all pretty believable; I'm just not sure about the whole Tom-Riddle-hating-Harry-Potter part.' He stopped, fingering the journal lying flat on the table. 'He's an interesting young-man. I think he said he was seventeen around the time of his death. Or maybe he was eighteen. I don't know when his birthday was. He might've died before or after it.'

Blaise looked down at the table, thinking about what his friend had said. 'Read it some more later and see what else you can figure out about the poor bloke. He might come in handy with our assignment. We could always do it about him and the house, not just the whole family. Focus on the youngest. That would mean, then, that we wouldn't have to spend as much time around that stupid Trio.' He grinned, chuckling. Pansy giggled, Draco grinned back.

'That'd be a great idea. But I still want to go back tonight. We'll all bring some night provisions though, make it real interesting; document it!' The group agreed and began to eat and drink, talking about the day so far and other events that had transpired, or gossiping about the Trio.

―∞―

The Trio, or also known as 'the Golden Trio' for reasons unknown to them, were sitting around the kitchen bench in Hermione's house. Their conversation was very similar to their 'darker' counterpart, but mainly centered on the absence of destruction in the room Hermione found the Shakespeare book; about the bloodied bedspread.

'Do you think that was where Harry Potter was murdered?' She asked, leaning forward on her elbows, chin rested in her open palms, waiting for a response with bright eyes. She smiled, interested, curious. Neville fidgeted, looking down at his hands on the bench. Ron looked like he was in deep thought; a novel event by far.

'Perhaps. It… it wasn't ever said how he died… was it?' Neville spoke, looking up at Hermione. Hermione nodded, agreeing with him. She bent down to pick up her bag at her feet, placing it on the counter top. The framed photograph was pulled out, as well as the Shakespeare collection. She tapped the frame for a moment, looking down at the five faces. Hermione frowned, bending down to get a closer look.

'Wait a second… Can you see that in the background? Among the trees?' She turned it around so the boys could see, pointing to the spot where she saw something odd. Neville peered closer, narrowing his eyes slightly, a frown creasing between his eyebrows. Ron looked, his eyes widening slightly.

'Is that… a person?' Hermione nodded, smiling in sort-of pride at her boyfriend.

'It does look like that, doesn't it? It looks like a she. She looks like she's smoke, hardly there…' She paused, squinting closer at the photograph. 'It's hard to tell… But it looks like she wasn't supposed to be there…'

―∞―

I sighed, looking around me with awe, taking everything in with rapid succession. It was the first time in years that I'd been outside, even if it was only a few feet from the back door. The sky was blue, the sun almost blinding. The grass was well manicured, the flowers blooming. I guess that was what spring was like, a little warm, beautiful. I can feel my skin burning, unused to such strong natural light beating down on it.

Mother wanted to take a family portrait, outside. I suspect it was to get me out, to learn what wind felt like on my skin. Maybe it was just to have a photograph to show family in the city; a photograph to accompany fake stories of family trips to the lake. Maybe it was neither, maybe she just wanted something to hang on the wall or put in the hallway.

'Harry.'

I turn back to the camera, staring at the man behind it. He nodded in approval and began talking about where my sister should sit; Mother and Sister had chairs brought out for this.

The man smiled, lifting the cover over his head and bending down to look through the lens. He fiddled with the camera for a moment, checking to see if we all fit into it or something. I don't know, I've never looked through a camera; never used one, never felt one.

I feel myself frown, my eyebrows drawn together. A pained look, I think. I want to know these things. I want to know what grass feels like, in my hands, between my toes. I want to learn how to use a camera.

Click.

I'll never see this photograph.

-x-

This has been uploaded before, but I've done some editing. It's also on AO3.


	2. Chapter Two: Apparition

Apparition

The sun was setting, casting a dull glow over the forest – which in actual fact was the garden, but after years of not being taken care of it had transformed – and reflected off the few un-smashed windows. The sky was clearer than it had been around midday, and the moon was slowly becoming visible in the sky. The night birds were waking up as the sun sank below the horizon, and darkness flooded the underbrush.

Light flooded the driveway, the sound of the gravel crunching beneath the tires of a car as it approached the Manor, the passengers encased within it looking up at the building with rising apprehension. The only sound to be heard around the eerie grounds was the car as it slowed to a stop outside the Manor. Draco, Pansy and Blaise stepped out.

Draco paused to look up at the looming house, while Pansy and Blaise continued up to the Manor doors with their belongings . Draco's eyes scanned the windows, his eyes catching movement. He froze, his eyes widening, taking in moving blinds, a dark room, a pale face. It was gone before he could speak, before he could register more of the features of the person in the window. Which room was that?

He shook his head, pushing the image out of his mind. If someone else was in the house, they'll come across them eventually, no point in worrying over it. Draco followed his friends, shifting the bag on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

As each of them entered the house they looked around, taking in the differences that being there at night made. All three took out their torches and turned them on, shadows flickering across the walls in the expansive entrance hall. The chandelier on the roof shimmered, clinking with a slight breeze. Blaise shifted uncomfortably on his feet, an anxious expression on his face and in his eyes. He broke off from the other two, inching toward a large tapestry on the wall. His torch shone across it, lighting up parts of the fabric. He hadn't taken much notice of it when they were here before lunch. It was a family tree, proudly presented for all to see. It had space at the bottom to add more, a lot more, but it went back a few centuries.

'Draco, Pans... check out the family tree. It's of the main branch in the family, and it ends with Harry.' Blaise spoke, drawing his two friends over to him. They stood by his sides, their own torches roaming over the tapestry. Pansy frowned, putting her torch under her arm and shuffling through her bag. She pulled out a camera and turned it on. Glancing up at the tapestry in front of her, although now what she was looking at was dark, she readied her camera and took a shot. The flash went off, lighting the whole area in front of her.

Draco jumped, not expecting the camera flash, his breath caught in his throat for a moment, his heart racing, eyes glued to once spot on the family tree. He shone his torch above his head, focusing on the spot he saw.

'Some of the names are burnt out...'

―∞―

Hermione, Neville and Ron arrived not long after Draco, Pansy and Blaise, and parked their car behind the other group's. They got their belongings and surveyed the building in much the same way as Draco had. Hermione tried to figure out where the room herself and Ron visited was but couldn't place it. They walked up the steps outside the Manor, pushing the heavy doors inward and entering the building.

They stopped at the threshold as their eyes adjusted, leisurely reaching for their torches and turning them on. The light coming from Blaise, Draco and Pansy's torches, as well as their voices, had alerted them to their presence beforehand. Hermione led her friends over to them, but no one interacted between the two groups.

Silence embraced the Entrance Hall as all six people stared at the Tapestry. Draco sighed, moving away from the wall, his torch facing in front of him as he crossed the floor. His friends followed, their footsteps echoing in the silence. Hermione frowned, following after them.

'Have you found out anything important? Neville told us you found a journal.'

The three friends looked between themselves before turning around and facing Hermione. Draco shrugged in a noncommittal gesture.

' Yeh.' Hermione raised her eyebrows, smiling sweetly as her boyfriend and Neville came to stand on either side of her. The three of them sighed in almost perfect unison, Draco reaching into his bag to bring out the journal. He handed it over to Hermione before crossing his arms over his chest, giving her a bored look.

Neville, Ron and Hermione looked down at the book, a torch light being shone down on it. Silence descended once again, Draco, Pansy and Blaise turning to each other before breaking it by talking among themselves. The others continued to read in silence.

April 12, 1914

Dear Diary,

I'm not sure if you remember as the last time I wrote in you was quite some time ago, but my name is Harry Potter. I know you're only a book, but I've become quite attached to the thought of you. I'm sad that I stopped writing in you for nearly two years, but my eldest brother found out – somehow – that I had a diary. He made fun of me when he could for a long while.

Life is still the same. Father has me still confined to my rooms - which have now only become one - the kitchen and the library. The door that conjoined my bedroom to the other was blocked off. I do not know why he had that done.

A man joined my household on my fifteenth birthday. I'm almost seventeen now. I've seen him quite a few times since then, and the maids were whispering about him being called 'Tom Riddle'. They also thought he was rather handsome, and I suppose I cannot disagree with that. He is most agreeable.

My birthday was a simple affair. Mother had a couple of the maids take up a portion of a cake to me in the morning, as well as a note saying 'Happy Birthday, my Son' and a book with the entire collection of Shakespeare plays. At least she knows what I enjoy.

Later that day, while I was in the kitchen having some lunch and talking to the cook about pastries, the Head of the Staff came in with the Tom Riddle I mentioned before. The staff in the kitchen all stopped and turned to him, some of the women blushed if I remember correctly. His attention, I do believe, was mostly on me, but I'm not sure why.

That is my first encounter with Mr. Riddle. We were introduced, myself as the youngest son of the Potter family, and he as Tom Riddle, new maintenance man for the house.

It is almost time for my dinner to arrive, it is probably smart that I stop writing now; you never know who will see.

Harry Potter

Hermione finished reading first, frowning at this new information. She looked at Draco and his friends across from her, receiving practically the same look in return, one that clearly spoke 'Yeh, I know right? That poor guy was pretty much grounded for life'. She sighed sadly as her companions finished reading and closed the journal. It was handed back over to Draco as conversation broke out.

'Is that true? That that Harry Potter kid was confined to his room and the other two places? In that entry we read he didn't state a reason, do you know what it is? Have you read the whole thing?' Neville asked, his curiosity breaking him out of his usually meek behaviour. Blaise sighed, looking away to the side for a moment before turning back to the golden trio. He shoved his hands into his pockets.

'Yeh, I'm guessing it's true, unless the kid had a vivid imagination. Draco read the whole thing, and throughout it there wasn't ever a reason stated. It was mentioned that Harry didn't know why, as you've probably gathered from that entry, and he never finds out from what we gather. He died shortly after the last entry.'

The group was silent, listening to the sounds of the house and their own thoughts, torch lights and eyes wandering the Entrance Hall. They were under that Chandelier again, the glass chinking against each other. It appeared to be electric, but the house had no power connected to it so they could not turn it on.

It was decided that the two groups would split up again to wander the house, but not to designated areas. Draco took this as the opportunity to drag his two friends up the wide staircase, hoping to come across what – who – he saw in the window.

They wandered the dark and still hallway, opening doors to destroyed rooms as they went, not discovering anything meaningful. Pansy had a video camera on, commentating as they went.

'Draco sighs, angry and frustrated at not having found what he was looking for. Blaise looks less than amused, handsome features a mask of boredom. I, Pansy, believe he is acting, and that he really is excited, that his heart is hammering in its cage.' She paused, camera following its subjects as they walked. 'Draco glares, his aristocratic features forming an expression that makes me swoon, pity he's gay. Oh! Watch out Blaise! Out little man whore might be after you next! Haha-eeek! Draco! What the FUCK do you think you're doing?! STOP CHASING ME!' Pansy screeched as the ran away from her friend, cackling all the way.

Draco caught up to her easily and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up from the ground and twirling her around. He put her down and started tickling her sides, her cackling turning into raucous laughter. Blaise followed at a more sedate pace, but was grinning from ear to ear.

'With the way you're screaming, Pansy, I'll be surprised if you don't wake up the dead.'

―∞―

Ron, Hermione and Neville were wandering the bottom floor, unaware of the fun and games happening upstairs. The only girl in the golden trio was attempting to have an intelligent conversation with her two male friends. Attempting despite the fact that Ron did not get most of what she was saying – or was choosing not too – and Neville was quietly contemplating – both of which were obviously not what she was vying for.

She soon gave up, as people do, and focused her energy on taking photos of pieces of art and anything interesting that might be used later. The group soon came across the sitting room with the 'handsome' man in the portrait, the one Draco and Pansy saw before they found the journal and cookbook. Hermione took a photo of this as well.

'Who do you think he was?' Hermione asked. Neville thought for a moment, Ron just shrugged. Hermione smiled, lowering her camera. 'Yeh, I haven't got a clue either. He's obviously a Potter though, I mean, he does look like them, and he is in their house.' She tilted her head to the side, still smiling to herself.

The three shivered, looking anxiously around the room as a slight breeze played around their ankles. Hermione gulped, remembering once again the bloodied sheets in the bedroom upstairs. Neville paled drastically, his own mind recalling the events of that morning; how cold it was in the hallway upstairs, how the light didn't shine through the window even when the curtains were moved. Ron's eyes watered slightly and he shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing his hands together around his torch as his eyes surveyed the room, his light guiding their way. They felt watched.

'Fuck... what's going on here?'

―∞―

Draco, Pansy and Blaise were quiet, standing in the middle of the room Ron and Hermione visited that morning. It was how the know-it-all described it; dust free, no damage, a bloody bedspread. What she hadn't mentioned though, was that the bed was un-made, as if someone had been sleeping in it for a while.

'You'd think, if this is Harry's room, that his parents would have cleaned the bed and re-made it, or left it without covers. That is, of course, if this is his blood.' Draco spoke as he stepped toward the plain four poster bed. The blood splatter was as Hermione said, and it had been quite a few hours since she saw it. The blood was still wet in places, a sticky, drying mess. Pansy shuddered, looking away and gagging silently.

'Still grossed out by blood Pans?' Blaise chuckled, poking his friend in the side. Draco looked back to his friends, grinning from ear to ear. Pansy glared at both of them, her eyes switching between the both of them, arms crossed across her chest; pressing her breasts up as she did so, her chin slightly tucked into her neck. Draco outright laughed, looking away from her and shaking her head.

'Pans! Stop pouting!' Pansy dropped her stance, gaping in open-mouthed horror at her blond friend.

'Gosh guys! What's your problems?' Blaise grinned, gripping her around her shoulders.

'How about we drop this subject, highly amusing though it is, and move back onto what we are here for.' Pansy frowned but nodded anyway, pushing Blaise off of her. Draco's grin deflated to a smaller smile, nodding in agreement while still openly staring at Pansy, trying to rile her up.

'And what might we be here for, anyhow?' Pansy asked, waving her torch around dramatically, casting strange shadows across the walls. Draco rolled his eyes, lifting his foot to take a step toward his friends but stopping and staring down at the dark floor. He blinked, shining his torch at the ground. It took him a moment to recognize what he was looking at.

'Ah-what-the-fuck?!' He moved quickly over toward Blaise and Pansy, gripping his dark-skinned male friends' shoulders in panic. Draco blinked wide-eyed, his skin becoming a shade of white. Pansy squealed, jumping a foot in the air at the sudden outburst and clinging to Blaise like Draco. Blaise blinked helplessly, his heart thudding against his ribcage in adrenalin. He frowned after he gained some composure, shining his torch on the ground were Draco stood.

All three friends froze, staring is horror at the ground.

Pansy screamed, shrill and blood-curdling as her nails digging into Blaise's shoulder.

―∞―

The golden trio stared at the ceiling above them, blinking in silence as Pansy's scream ended. They turned to look at each other, eyes watering in horror, minds working at increased speeds, thinking and then re-thinking about what had happened. Neville shook, wringing his hands, his shoulders hunching up.

'D-do you t-think t-they're o-okay?' Hermione asked, wrapping her arms around her torso, her boyfriend circling his arms around her shoulders and bringing him in close.

'Dunno... we should go check, though.' No one thought about how weird that sounded coming from Ron's mouth. It was a mutual agreement about the choice that came next. Hermione nodded to herself, unwrapping her arms from around her torso. She turned off her camera, putting it in her bag, and directed the flashlight in front of her.

The group turned around, in no rush to get anywhere. Fear gripped them, hindering their movements. Fight or Flight kicked in, screaming for them to run and hide. They pressed on, walking back down the dark hallway, fear tingling against the skin, hair sticking up on the back of their necks. Silence pressed in around them, suffocating, controlling their reactions. Neville pressed in next to Hermione, Ron still with his arm around the brunette, his torch checking dark corners at each turn.

Their faces were pale, Hermione's lips were parted and tears of fear prickled in her brown eyes, one leaking down her cheek. Ron rested his cheek against her bushy hair.

None of them spoke as they travelled down what felt like a never-ending hallway, doors at near regular intervals on either side. Dripping permeated the silence, a distinct stench wafting down from the ceiling. None dared to look, fearing what they would see. Ron ceased checking corners above eye level, sticking to keeping his torch light on the ground.

Hermione's breath shuddered, a sobbing sound that only caused the dripping to echo louder. Their footsteps echoed off the walls and wooden floors, Hermione's hand shooting out and grabbing a hold of Neville's, forcing him to unfold his arms. He tightened his grip, glad she had thought to lend him some comfort. His teeth chattered, the cold biting into his skin.

'D-do you think t-they're a-alright?' No one answered the question, diverting their eyes from one another. Why lie?

―∞―

'OH MY GOD! What the FUCK is THAT?!' Pansy screamed, pointing at the floorboards under the bed. Cold sweat trickled down their skin, clouds of breath visible in the air before them. The room was freezing, the three friends clinging to each other for support, confused, scared and unable to run.

'I-I think i-it's b-blood.' Draco replied, unable to keep the shaking out of his voice. Blaise swallowed loudly, the torch in his hand wavering, the light on the ground shaking. Pansy covered her mouth with her hand, her lips parted in a silent scream.

From under the bed blood seeped, a steady flow in thin arms, as if reaching toward them. The puddle grew larger, creeping toward them, they stepped back, fearful eyes watching the glinting red. Blaise took a deep breath, carefully unhooking himself from his two friends – who then clung to each other – and walked slowly toward the bed. His foot connected with the blood, making a squelching noise. Slowly he continued forward until he reached the bed, bending down and taking a look under it with his torch shinning to guide his way.

'What are you doing?'

The three jumped, spinning around quickly only to see a pale boy with dark hair, obvious bed clothes – a baggy white shirt and slightly tighter white pants – and a glowing aura around him. He looked at them curiously; the only colour in him was his green eyes, like two shinning gems. Draco gasped, shell-shocked. Blaise blinked before looking down at his shoes. He pulled a disgusted face before quickly walking over to his friends. Bloody footprints followed him.

'I was looking under the bed … and who the HELL are you?' Blaise crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear defiant, confident and not in the least bit scared; which, at this point in time, was not true. Pansy ran behind Draco and over to Blaise, burying her face in his shoulder, clinging to him tightly. She shook, her eyes screwed shut tight.

'Can you see me?' The boy asked in awe, a desperate expression on his face. He leaned forward a bit, hands clasped in front of him. Draco nodded, not trusting his voice.

'Y-yeh, we can.' Blaise uttered, slinging an arm around Pansy's waist. Draco blinked slowly, a little dazed and confused. The boy grinned, moving forward a couple of steps. Draco's eyes widened as he stared at the boys feet.

'Y-you just w-walked without t-touching the ground!' He exclaimed, pointing his finger at the dark haired boy's feet. The boy paused, his eyes widening as he stared at the ground and his feet. He blinked, wiggling his pale toes which were an inch above the ground. He gasped, hands clenching.

'Oh my! What's going on? Who are you people?!' The boy yelled, stepping back, his wide green eyes frantically looking between the three intruders. 'Why are you in my room?! Where is my family?! What have you done with them?!' The group took a few steps back from the raging boy, closer to the blood spreading from under the bed.

Pansy screamed, clinging tighter to Blaise as the furniture in the room shook, the doors rattled and the mirror and windows cracked. Draco yelped loudly, looking wildly around the room. He took a deep calming breath – which only served to aggravate his anxiety even more – and took slow steps toward the panicking, crying boy.

'I-it's okay… er… sir. M-my name i-is D-Draco. Um… we-we're not g-going t-to hurt you, or anything… W-what's your name, then?' The blond student asked, slowing his steps and attempting to calm the boy by slowly reaching toward him. The glowing boy stopped crying, his hiccups the only thing coming from him for a moment. He calmed down, tears drying on his cheeks.

'M-my name is –hic- Harry.' Draco smiled sadly at the boy, slowly retracting his hand.

'Harry Potter?'

'… Yes.' The furniture in the room slowly stopped shaking, the three intruders sadly looking at each other. Pansy sniffled, drying her eyes on the back of her hand. She looked back behind her, shifting away from the drying blood. 'That's so gross' she muttered to herself. Blaise attempted to grin at her, but it looked more like a grimace. They were all thinking the same thing: Poor Harry.

'Er… what year is it Harry?' Draco asked, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. Harry frowned, looking at all three of them as if for the first time. He gapped, confused and still anxious.

'1914, I-I think… I'm not quite sure… Where is my family? I-I haven't seen them in s-so long…' The three friends sighed, frowned and looked sadly at each other. Harry's expression turned frightened, hands being wrung in front of him. Why were they acting like that? What was wrong?

'Harry... it isn't 1914, it's 2008. No one knows what happened to your family… They left shortly after you… died.' Blaise said quietly, pulling Pansy closer to his side. Draco shifted on his feet awkwardly, hating the way his shoes stuck to the ground slightly. Harry stared, breathing heavily.

'No… No!' The ghost yelled, hands flying to his ears, tears rolling down his porcelain skin again. He screamed, the mirror cracking and smashing, the windows blowing out. The three torches wavered, the light flashing, casting awkward, moving shadows. Ron busted through the door, pausing on the threshold, Hermione and Neville on either side of him. Harry turned around to face the three new intruders, still screaming with his hands over his ears.

Pansy took this as her chance to run past the raging ghost, dodging an ornament that went flying off of the chest of draws, squeezing out past Ron. Blaise followed closely, silently agreeing with Pansy about this being the right time. Draco stood stock still for a moment, sadness shining in his eyes before shaking his head and high-tailing it out of there.

―∞―

'What the FUCK was THAT?!' Ron bellowed as soon as they thought they were a safe distance away – they were now in the kitchen on the first floor. Hermione nodded in agreement, a look of permanent shock on her face. Neville was pale and the other three were shaking; Pansy in tears, Blaise with his arm around her shoulders and Draco hugging himself and staring wide-eyed at nothing in particular. Blaise cleared his throat, loathing the fact that neither of his companions was 'well' enough to reply in his stead. God he just wished he could stay silent.

'Harry Potter. Or, well, the Ghost of Harry Potter.' A collective gasp wrung from the golden trio and the utterance of Harry's name woke Draco up out of his stupor. He looked at the group of people around him, noticing that none of them were paying him any attention, and decided to wander around the large kitchen.

He breathed deeply, attempting to calm his speeding heart, as he looked at the benches and cupboards, not opening anything, but just looking around. Silence settled down over the group as the news of what just happened settled in. Pansy broke it just as suddenly as it descended.

'Blood. There… t-there was blood seeping f-from under the b-bed..' She sobbed openly now, burying her face once again in Blaise's shoulder. He encased her fully in his arms, whispering calming words into her ear. He rubbed her clothed shoulders gently, his own fear of the house shining in his watery eyes.

Hermione gaped, looking around blindly as if trying to find some logic in the situation. She shuddered, leaning back into her boyfriend and hugging herself before speaking.

'God, and this whole little trip was basically to do some research on history. The history of this stupid house. Why the fuck did we decide to come back here tonight? There was no fucking requirement or anything? So why are we even here?' She made a frustrated noise, tears gathering in her eyes as she shuddered, Ron wrapping his arms around her.

'We're here because we were curious. The wind, the lack of decay in some rooms compared to others… don't tell me you weren't dying to know why.' Draco spoke from the other side of the kitchen, leaning on the bench with his hands supporting him, staring down at them calmly. 'We now have a chance to understand how Harry died. What happened here beforehand. He's the only one who paid any attention!' He took the diary out of his bag and slammed it down on the bench.

'He gave us clues in this. He didn't spell it out, but he did leave clues. If we can get closer to his ghost… maybe he can tell us what really happened, how he died. The papers from this time wrote it off as suicide. I doubt he did that. His diary said as much.' He sighed, frustrated, pushing himself violently away from the bench and pacing for a moment. 'That's why we came again, isn't it? We all had an inkling this morning about something paranormal, right? Now we know it's true. Now we can find out about the hidden facts!' Draco stopped and looked at them all, who were all looking at him. They all nodded, agreeing with him.

'Then let's set—'

They froze, looking around them wildly as people came into view, as the room lighted and glowed warmly. They gaped, shocked as sounds accompanied the see-through people, who were obviously kitchen workers. Voices, clinking of dishes, sounds of running water, laughter. The lighting of this echo flickered, the people disappearing and re-appearing.

Pansy screamed, hands covering her mouth. The people disappeared slowly, phasing out, the sounds dulling a few moments afterwards.

'God damn, it's almost like something that would happen in Torchwood.'

The group all turned to face Neville, wide-eyes and pale facing gaping at him.

'No… just… no.'

―∞―


End file.
